


the hurt you sold

by shizuoh



Series: still just you, frisk [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Codependency, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Nonbinary Chara (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader is Chara (Undertale), Sharing a Body, once again allusions to past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuoh/pseuds/shizuoh
Summary: Frisk only smiles and says,If we’re going to be in this together, forever, then my problems are your problems too. And vice a versa.It’s “vice versa,”you correct.Will you shut up? I mean it.Didn’t youliterallyjust say you want me in your head forever?after one of frisk's therapy sessions, two kids get into an introspective discussion about their future.
Relationships: Chara & Frisk (Undertale)
Series: still just you, frisk [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118276
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	the hurt you sold

**Author's Note:**

> my absolute favorite point of view to write in is second person so shoutout to undertale for being a socially acceptable fandom to write second person in

Frisk goes to therapy. 

You don’t know much about it. This is  _ their  _ thing, having to do with  _ their  _ issues, so you have always let Frisk take the reins while you hide in a small corner of your headspace, trying to push down the curiosity of learning the true meaning behind those quiet, muffled words you still hear. You still wonder, but as far as you’re concerned, you’ll never know. A part of you wonders if Frisk ever talks about you — if they ever mention that tiny voice in their head that tells them to kill people. (Sometimes, and  _ mostly  _ jokingly, but there  _ is  _ that kid from the neighboring all-human school who is always throwing stones at Frisk’s head and calling them slurs you can’t repeat—

_ You’re thinking too loud. _

_ Oops. Sorry. _ ) 

Therapy was not… exactly a thing when you were still up and around with your own body and soul. It _was_ , technically, you guess, but nobody talked about it, and you didn’t know anyone who went to it. You’re used to dealing with your problems by charging at them head-on and ignoring consequences later. Frisk is used to running away or shutting everyone and everything out.

(Maybe you should both be there.)

So, yeah. Frisk goes to therapy. You hide away and pretend you aren’t there. The thing is… trying to completely ignore everything that’s happening while Frisk is in that room is  _ hard _ . It’s impossible for you and Frisk to completely shut the other out — both of you have tried, definitely, but there’s always that small sliver of connection that keeps the two of you tethered. But, it isn’t just the fact that you can pretty much still hear everything the therapist says; it’s that you can feel Frisk’s  _ contempt  _ and  _ rage  _ every time the therapist so much as looks at them.

Frisk  _ hates  _ therapy. They hate talking about their own feelings even if they’re oh so willing to help every one of their other friends get over their own problems. They hate people (who aren’t you) digging into their head and trying to figure out what makes them tick. And Frisk is a loving person, even if they sometimes have that nasty habit of masking everything behind a blank face, pretending that nothing is wrong. You’ve never known them to hate pretty much anything. 

It’s easier between the two of you, where neither of you have to lift a finger or say a word to understand literally everything about each other. It’s strange, and unnatural, and weird, but you consider yourself luckier than most. Luckier than you should be. 

(Maybe it’s because you are so similar. Through the therapist’s muffled words you can make out some sentences that correlate, rather horrifyingly, to a past you left behind years ago. Frisk never replies, not in any way that counts, but you don’t need to hear their voice or see their signs to know that what the two of you have is something special.)

Frisk hates therapy, but they only go because it makes Mom happy. Or maybe not  _ happy _ . Maybe more… at peace. Soothed. It gives her one less thing to worry about. Frisk never tells her about the way they  _ really  _ feel about being forced to talk to a blonde human woman once a week, which reminds you of the time the blonde human woman told them _ I think we should start working on being more open with your emotions and being honest with both yourself and others _ — and there’s that “we” she always uses. There’s no  _ we  _ between her and Frisk. There’s only  _ you  _ and Frisk.

There is only the two of you now, as Frisk paces back and forth within the comfort of their locked bedroom. Their footsteps are soft against the carpet. You wish you had control so you could stomp, in those thick, heavy boots Frisk bought for the both of you — but that’d draw too much attention, so you stick to holding control of your fists and slamming them against your thighs. Frisk’s anger is your anger, and this is a rare moment, for them to feel much more of it than you.

_ I hate her, _ they spit into your shared headspace.  _ I hate this. I don’t want to talk to anybody but you. _

_ Forever?  _ you ask, jokingly.

_ Forever, _ they reply immediately, completely serious.

You pause. It shouldn’t surprise you as much as it does, and yet it stings your heart almost every time it’s made clear. For a moment you think about a reality where the two of you never met; a reality where you stayed dead is, ironically, not anywhere you want to be. You’d rather stay as a soulless entity inside this kid’s head for the rest of your life, and knowing Frisk feels the same way is…  _ overwhelming  _ sometimes.

_ What if we ever had the chance to get separate bodies? _ you ask quietly.

Frisk doesn’t answer for a moment. Then,  _ If you wanted. _

_ What do  _ **_you_ ** _ want? _

_ I don’t want to be selfish,  _ is their reply.

Now you’re really curious.  _ You can be selfish,  _ you say.  _ You know you can’t hide anything from me. _

Once again, Frisk goes quiet. They’ve stopped pacing, and now the two of you stand in the middle of their room, fists clenched at your sides. You slowly take control so you can loosen the grip, wincing at the feeling that comes when your nails stop digging into your palms. No blood, at least.

_ What if I said I didn’t want separate bodies? _ Frisk suddenly asks, voice small and trembling with shame. You make them take a deep breath, and their next words are a little more confident, _ It’s… it’s easy having someone in my head who understands me. I don’t have to say anything and you already know what I’m trying to say. _ You know exactly how they feel.  _ And — and what if getting you a separate body is too dangerous? If you wanted it, I’d say yes, I would, I promise, but you died in a painful way. Would that pain stay? Would you just be in pain forever? And then it’d be even harder to talk to each other. You wouldn’t understand— _

_ Whoa there, _ you cut them off. It’s clear to you now that this is a situation they’ve thought a lot about.  _ Where have you been hiding all this?  _

_ I think about it when you’re sleeping,  _ Frisk admits.

_ Sneaky bastard,  _ you say affectionately, and that earns you Frisk’s first smile of the day (take  _ that _ , other friends).  _ Well, to be honest, _ you then say, voice turning serious,  _ I don’t really know how I feel about that. I wouldn’t want a separate body if it just hurts all the time. _

_ It’s just a theory… _

_ You’ve been spending too much time with Alphys,  _ you say, and then sigh,  _ but… I do like what we have now. Together. _

_ You do? _

_ Of course I do.  _ You punch Frisk’s right arm with your left.  _ Asshole. You know that. _

_ Yeah,  _ Frisk says, and they do, but at the same time… you understand the doubt.  _ I love you, Chara. _

Your chest goes warm.  _ Now this is progress, _ you say hastily out of embarrassment.  _ We’re being open with your emotions and being honest with yourself and others. Your therapist would be so proud. _

_ Fuck you.  _

Your face splits out into a grin. You love it when you can get them to curse.  _ Maybe something to consider for next session?  _

_ I changed my mind, _ Frisk says.  _ Get out of my head. _

The both of you laugh, aloud — you almost wish there were two voices instead of one. That way people would know Frisk was taken, that they didn’t need any other friend besides you (which  _ isn’t  _ true, but you already know Frisk likes you the best, anyway. Right, Frisk?

_ I mean… _

_ Asshole.  _ Well, it’s not as if they have a choice. They made that a long time ago.)

Frisk moves to go sit on their bed. They lean against the wall and bring their knees up to their chest. They’re getting taller by the day, more lankier; you’ll rue the day they become taller than you were. 

_ You can listen in next time, _ they say, instead of hiding.

Your eyes go wide in shock.  _ Why would I do that? _

_ I know it’s hard for you to hide, _ Frisk replies,  _ and you pretty much know everything anyway _ . 

That much is true, but at the same time… it isn’t.  _ Frisk, _ your voice goes hard,  _ I don’t… It’s  _ **_your_ ** _ issues. Your therapist doesn’t even know someone else is listening. _

_ And she won’t know, _ Frisk assures, _ or else she’d think I’m crazy. _

_ You are, _ you say reflexively, meaning it as a joke, and immediately regret it.

Frisk only smiles and says,  _ If we’re going to be in this together, forever, then my problems are your problems too. And vice a versa. _

_ It’s “vice versa,” _ you correct.

_ Will you shut up? I mean it.  _

_ Didn’t you  _ **_literally_ ** _ just say you want me in your head forever? _

_ I could’ve gotten stuck with any other dead kid… _

_ Nope. Just me. _ You cross your arms over your chest.  _ I’m the best of the best.  _ Frisk doesn’t answer for a minute.  _ Frisk? _ For a moment you’re actually worried they’re meaning what they’re saying.  _ Frisk? _ you ask again.

_ We’re basically the same person,  _ Frisk blurts, _ right? _

The both of you pause.  _ Right, _ you then say after a beat. The concept of that is not as terrifying as it should be. It’s  _ inviting. _

(You should really go to therapy too.)

Frisk shifts so they’re laying down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars Papyrus had gifted them are peeling off and barely working — more often than not the two of you wake up to find a bunch of them on the ground from falling down overnight. There’s one in the corner of the room that looks so close to falling that you just want to march right up to it and rip it off yourself.

_ Chara,  _ Frisk says,  _ I don’t know if I could’ve made it through the underground without you.  _ Then, as an afterthought,  _ I don’t know if I could live without you at all. _

Your eyes burn.  _ Stop crying, _ you say, but you’re not sure if those tears are you or Frisk. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you let yourself bask in your shared presence. Having someone with you all the time is both comforting and daunting, but right now there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

_ I know, _ you say, instead of everything else you want to, because you’re not really sure where you’d be if otherwise. Lucky for you, the two of you don’t have to say anything at all.

**Author's Note:**

> college started back up for me again, so this came out later than i actually wanted it to. and shorter. but i still have plans for this series, and hopefully schoolwork won't get too much in the way. thank you for all the support on the last work!! xx
> 
> (also: formatting on ao3 with constant italics makes it turn out a little weird. i always try to go back and correct the mistakes, but sometimes the corrections make them look even worse... apologies for that.)


End file.
